A dedication to the Long War, American foreign policy, the siren call of Afghanistan, fly fishing, and coming home.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Afghan fever dream

It's the middle of the afternoon and the streets are a few degrees under bustling. You know you're supposed to be looking for a red sedan, but can't remember why. The MRAP is cavernous like the inside of a submarine, and there is a disco ball hanging from the ceiling. Somehow, the gunner managed to hook up his iPOD to the intercom system. Now, as you scour the streets looking for a red VBIED, all you hear is Lesley Gore singing "Sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows."

Without warning, you smoothly transitioned back in the FT Riley area outside a piece of shit bar known as "The Rockhouse" in Ogden. The other vehicles in your element are gone and it's just your MRAP and your soundtrack. Like any good dream, nothing needs to make sense, so it seems to make perfectly reasonable that you're driving around Afghanistan in Ogden, KS.

You spot the red car, its right next to you. 3 girls wearing go-go outfits materialize out of the air with short black hair start dancing your way. Now you're back in Afghanistan with a peppering of Pashtun men staring at you in a very uncommitted way. The type of look that reminds you how little you have in common. One of the crew members invites the go-go dancers into the submarine/MRAP. Everyone is dancing and giggling inside while the red car is parked close enough off the driver's side that you can read the VIN.

Then you wake up to a snowy morning. You pet the FOB dog and go about your business, all the while wondering if you should warn the rest of your team about a red car. I thought it was Christmas, not Halloween.

Oh by the way, I saw a fully loaded passenger bus with a pickup truck and a station wagon strapped to the roof. The bus was on a jack while the driver changed a tire. That was no dream.